


the one you chose

by freezerjerky



Series: it's coming into sight [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Pre-Canon, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: The tone Newt’s using shifts to a croon and Hermann tries to listen to the words rather than focus on his feelings and his reactions. Not that he wants to give Newt his attention when he’s doing something other than work, but the need to listen to him and understand him when no one else can is instinctive. Hermann truly does not know this song, but the message is clear.“Maybe I’m crazy,” Newt sings out, “to suppose I’d ever be the one you chose, out of the thousand invitations you received.”New Year’s Eve is still a few days away and it’ll be insignificant, save in the fact that it’s probably the last New Year’s Eve either of them will have the pleasure of experiencing. The world may end soon and it may end spectacularly. Surely Hermann cannot waste the chance to spend it with someone he cares for?





	the one you chose

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve" which was the inspiration for this fic. I recommend giving it a listen because it's one of my favorite holiday songs. This is likely to be my last fic for 2018 which is exciting but also mind boggling because HOLY CRAP I wrote over 300k of Newmann fic for y'all this year. What a doozy. In true fashion, I attempted to write a cute fic about a holiday song and we got...this
> 
> This fic is set in the [it's coming into sight](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1221719) 'verse but you don't need to read those fics for context- it's a prequel.
> 
> I'm also giving a special dedication to [lex](http://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly) for this one because a. it is their birthday b. their preoccupation with the NYE scene in "replaced by everyday" was a catalyst for this fic as it currently is.

Newt’s seated at his keyboard when Hermann enters the lab. This isn’t the first time this has occurred, nor will it likely be the last. At this point, at least, Hermann’s able to more or less ignore him as he bangs on the keys. Newt has no less than three keyboards in the lab so Hermann knows it’s useless to ask him to get rid of the instrument or to try to hide it from him. Not only would that be juvenile but it would accomplish nothing. If Newt thinks he needs something, an instrument, a computer, or a certain food item, he will manage to find it. Somehow.

Hermann’s managed to walk halfway through the lab when he notices that the sound of keys being smashed at random suddenly becomes something more melodic, like Newt has collected himself in a hurry to perform. Perhaps this is one of the rare occasions that Newt will play something with actual musical merit. Admittedly, Newt does have some talent as a player, even if his vocals often leave a little bit to be desired. 

As if on cue, Newt starts to sing, low and almost to himself and something familiar pings inside of Hermann, clenching at his chest. He’s not sure if he knows this song, but the moment Newt starts to sing, he rescinds any negative judgment of his ability as a singer. He can’t precisely place the feeling when Newt sings- it’s warm and it’s awkward, but it’s also familiar and it’s something he wants to keep dear to him.

If he’s honest with himself, a song feels like precisely what he needs. Everyone in the Shatterdome is tense around the holidays as is, but with the world feeling like it’s actively ending around them and funding to the PPDC being finally cut off, no one has felt like celebrating anything. Hermann left his Menorah in storage and Tendo didn’t even bother arranging a holiday party. They’ve been overworked and busy, but that’s not new. What is new is the feeling of hopelessness that often seeps in. Hermann’s not trying to feel hopeless or lost, he’s trying to keep from snapping every moment: at Newt, at strangers, at himself, but it can’t be helped. It’s better, he thinks, to be reminded that he can feel. He’s not yet an automaton, even if that’s the way he presents himself to strangers and increasingly often to friends.

The tone Newt’s using shifts to a croon and Hermann tries to listen to the words rather than focus on his feelings and his reactions. Not that he wants to give Newt his attention when he’s doing something other than work, but the need to listen to him and understand him when no one else can is instinctive. Hermann truly does not know this song, but the message is clear.

“Maybe I’m crazy,” Newt sings out, “to suppose I’d ever be the one you chose, out of the thousand invitations you received.”

New Year’s Eve is still a few days away and it’ll be insignificant, save in the fact that it’s probably the last New Year’s Eve either of them will have the pleasure of experiencing. The world may end soon and it may end spectacularly. Surely Hermann cannot waste the chance to spend it with someone he cares for? 

When Newt gets to the last words, the final imploring “what are you doing New Year’s Eve?” he’s stopped playing completely, just turned to face Hermann where he stands in the other side of the lab. The silence between them that ensues is heavy, a fog and a veil that cannot be lifted without either of them doing something. Only Newt’s tried to do something and Hermann realizes he’s a coward. But he can’t fix being a coward anymore than he can fix the breach or the monsters that continue to spill from it, so he turns to the comfort of his computers and his boards. He knows the expectant, boyish grin on Newt’s face has faded and he doesn’t know if he’ll have the pleasure of seeing it like this again.

 

The breach is closed and destroyed early in the New Year and there are no more kaiju. Hermann is still a coward who makes no changes or moves.

 

Newt doesn’t seem to want most of his things, even his items that were brought out of storage to him. Hermann remembers his desperately vacant look as the boxes arrived in their small apartment. ( _ His _ small apartment but Newt's been ordered to stay with him for several months and Hermann’s strategizing how to get him to stay indefinitely.) They go through a box each night and Hermann forces Newt to decide what he wants to keep. Ultimately, he ends up with what amounts to a smaller dresser full of clothes and a few boxes of mostly sentimental items comprising the majority of his possessions. Despite Newt’s insistence that he doesn’t need anything else, Hermann picks a few of his musical instruments to keep and store and donates the rest. While he doesn’t condone the excess of Newt’s youth, he certainly wants him to have indulgences now. Newt deserves the chance and the right to do what he wants when he wants to.

The holidays are particularly rough. Hermann didn’t realize someone could be out of practice on celebrating, but Newt is exceptionally quiet when they light the Menorah each night. They do nothing else to celebrate and Hermann has to bypass Christmas  This year, Hanukkah bleeds over into the New Year and Hermann finds some symbolism in the carrying over of light into another year. They’re going to need this to get through.

Hermann notices everything Newt does or doesn’t do. It seems like it’s more that he doesn’t do, when he’s sitting quietly or reading something or staring at the television as though he’s actually paying attention. Sometimes, every once in a while, Newt will give him a look and he’s transported back a decade- like they’re still sharing a lab and an unspoken promise that neither of them were brave enough to follow through on. Hermann doesn’t know how to tell Newt that he still wants to deliver on that promise, that he knows what it means to want and want with a fierce desperation. But he has to do what’s best for Newt, to keep him happy and help him recover.

He knows he’s had a few invitations tonight parties with colleagues or old friends. Hermann’s still new to his job, but the people he works with are kind and don’t ask questions about the photograph he keeps on his desk. Anyone who’s aware of who he is, what he was doing before this job, knows who Newt is but they say nothing and only give him sad but kind smiles whenever he says “my partner.” (He doesn’t mean to say it like that, but he doesn’t know how else to explain it, what other words to put towards his feelings and the life he’s living now. Not so deep down, he knows Newt would not object.) Peter, the man who doesn’t mind eating quiet lunches with him, had pointedly told him he could bring Newt to his party, that there wouldn’t be many people but he refused. They’ve barely gotten to the point of going to the grocery store without incident.

He’s in the middle of doing dishes when he hears a sound from the living room. It’s a memory, faint at first, then coming in with more intensity as Newt’s fingers retrace their motions. It’s not as smooth as Hermann remembers, but it calls him all the same. In fact, it calls him in with an intensity he hasn’t been able to think to put words to for the past few weeks of their living together like this. This is not a permanent arrangement, he has to remind himself, Newt is not his and he is not Newt’s unless he asks him to be. (Or the moment Hermann gives in and asks Newt, begs him to consider the possibility.) Hermann’s mind supplies, though, that it feels as though this is an until and not an unless. This may be Newt’s halfway house after his recovery, but Hermann knows when he hears Newt start singing that he wants to be his true home as well. When Newt sings, he feels like he’s coming home and he wants Newt to feel the same of him.

Without hesitation, he turns off the faucet and dries his hands. There’s a moment, only a pause where he stands in his kitchen doorway on his way to the living room, but it’s not hesitation. He’s definitely not hesitating as he seats himself on the bench next to Newt as he plays. Newt’s voice is soft as he sings and others might describe his tone as awkward, broken, but Hermann hears something else in this. He hears a man recovering, a man regaining himself and not putting the pieces back together in the same order, but still putting them together nonetheless.

He’s listened to the song a few times since the performance a decade ago, he’s more familiar with the words and knows the tune well enough to hum along. He knows enough to know that it’s not the sort of song to warrant the tears on Newt’s face, but the emotion is enough to warrant Hermann’s desire to kiss them away. It’s not time yet, he knows, but the time will come. Hermann used to be afraid of age, of missing out on time, but he doesn’t know this sort of fear any longer. There are far worse things to be afraid of than the grey hairs at his temples that he may or may not dye away.

When Newt finishes, he rests his hands in his lap. Seeing those wonderful hands, no longer callused but oddly smooth with years of delicate care, folded so calmly and so subdued, fills Hermann with an anger he can’t place. Those hands should be flying, should be digging into something or waving at him or guiding Hermann through life. Those hands should be in his own.

He rests one of his hands on top of Newt’s and squeezes. “That was lovely, Newton.”

“I played it for you,” Newt remarks. “Our last New Year’s in Hong Kong. I played it for you.”

“I know you did,” Hermann answers. “I heard every word then, and I wish I had told you-” He stops himself. Now is not the time. Maybe next year, that’s coming soon enough, after all. “How beautiful it was.”

“It’s good to play again. It’s good, to have things to do with my hands.”

Hermann’s a bit too worried about the implications of Newt having nothing to do, but this is progress. This is Newt wanting to heal, to realize he’s human and has always been. He takes his hand off of Newt’s and wraps his arm around Newt, squeezing his shoulder as he pulls him close. Touch has been slow, but they’re working on it. It’s a comfort, and Hermann wonders if Newt knows it’s just as much of a comfort to him. Newt hesitates for a moment and then rests his head on Hermann’s shoulder and Hermann gives into the temptation to kiss the top of his head. It’s not quite the grand midnight kiss either of them would hope for, and they’ll probably be asleep when the New Year rings in, but Hermann feels grateful and as though he’s teetering on the edge of happiness. In that moment, Hermann knows that he’s going to make damn sure Newt doesn’t have to spend another New Year’s Eve alone.


End file.
